EVIE
like love is a bad word
Amalia's head on her shoulder is a familiar weight, and her own crown tilts to lean against her sister's as their hands find one another. As they always have, and always will. Fingers entangling and squeezing gently. Amalia's encouragements are softly spoken, and though her mother isn't there to say the words directly, Evie can't help but feel that they're being said directly through the Shield in a way that helps soothe her turbulent soul. As her own visions fade, her hand reaches backwards searching for Amalia's, and finds it immediately. It's a singular comfort, and she closes her eyes to focus on the warmth between their palms instead of the storm inside. Only daring to open them once more as Amalia calls her back from that void, years of hoping and praying with no answer fading away under her sister's guileless gaze. "What?" she asks softly, voice incapable of coming out any stronger .
